


Thread 5

by banbanabas



Series: FE3H Threadfic Collection [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Crimson Flower Route, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), this is dorothea-centric, wartime angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21997141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banbanabas/pseuds/banbanabas
Summary: Dorothea Arnault reflects on the war.
Series: FE3H Threadfic Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583395
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Thread 5

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted as a twitter thread.

Dorothea Arnault knows she is an anomaly on the battlefield: a songstress turned warrior, a celebrity rending flesh with her magic.

It helps that she isn't the only one. Manuela fights by her side. They often end up assigned near one another - Edelgard knows how well they mesh.

Dorothea watches Manuela take down a whole battalion with her Levin sword. Lightning is effective on armored units, of course, and Manuela isn't afraid to kill. Or perhaps she isn't afraid to kill anymore.

When they're mid-battle like this, Dorothea doesn't see her mentor from the opera house. Manuela's usual lightheartedness falls away. She holds her lips in a tight line, keeps her head high, and steps over the shock-burned bodies toward her next target.

Dorothea follows.

Sometimes, after Dorothea blasts through an enemy and tells herself it had to be this way, she looks up and sees Manuela watching her. Like she's being evaluated. Like there's a crack in her mask and Manuela can see it slowly splintering.

Dorothea nods to her, and Manuela nods back. Her mask won't break today. They keep fighting, and Dorothea holds it together because Manuela was the one who taught her how to act, how to slip into a character's shoes.

Her shoes, now, are bloodstained. She acts the part.

Hours later, when the Black Eagle Strike Force rises victorious, she celebrates in the tired way she always does: cleaning up. She finds the nearest river and kneels at its edge, and she splashes handfuls of water into her face. The first time, her hands always come away crimson.

It’s still daytime. The water moves slow enough that she can see her reflection. She’s covered in dirt and grime, but at least she's alive.

An odd feeling washes over her. When she sees herself like this, it's hard not to remember how she used to be. The dirt and grime are nothing new, she thinks bitterly. Being glad to be alive? Mostly unchanged.

But her old self fought just to stay alive. Now, she fights for peace, for a world that wouldn't throw children like her into the streets.

She wonders what her younger self would think, seeing the path she's taken and all its costs in death and violence.

Would she think it was worth it? Or would she even care, her mind occupied by the need to survive?

Maybe she hasn't changed much, after all.

Dorothea splashes her face again, and she sees her mask go back up, cracks and all. She rises from the riverbank and returns to the war.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter: @sporeprise


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